


Hunter

by mandiholl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hunter/Hunted, chase kink, primal play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26315668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandiholl/pseuds/mandiholl
Summary: She was being hunted. Had been for some time. A shadow that had been specially trained to hunt while leaving no trace was closing in. And he was hungry.
Relationships: Darth Maul/Original Character(s), Darth Maul/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64





	Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> It has been a LONG WHILE since I've last written you guys anything, but life happens. And while life was happening, I finally got onto watching Star Wars: the Clone Wars. I wasn't expecting to change my opinion on Darth Maul, but Dave Filoni is pretty good at making amazing plot lines where none might have existed before, and taking 2-dimensional cardboard cutouts and turning them into real men.
> 
> Oh, if you are looking for a timeline, I put this at roughly sometime after the Clone Wars series. Have changed his Obi-Wan-based bifurcation to mid-thigh, for obvious reasons.

She was being hunted. Had been for some time.

It started with just a feeling—ominous, potent, powerful, _hungry_. Then she’d seen it out of the corner of her eye. A shadow… No, but it moved through them as natural as breathing, silent, fluid, and in the twilight its domain was growing.

Her heart pounded in her ears, her instincts screaming at her to run. So she did. With no crowd to disappear into, the best she could do was dart through the streets of the abandoned market. If she made her trail as chaotic and winding as possible, maybe she could lose it, but that would mean darting through the shadows, which were stretching longer and darker.

Right, left, left, right, double back, straight, laughter following her. Legs and lungs burning, she ducked into a nearby stall. From the looks of it, it was once a fruit stall, but the local fauna had long ago made off with whatever remained, the pleasant smells of meilooran and jogan replaced with rust and carbon scoring. Ducking under the counter, she clapped her hands over her mouth in an effort to quiet her breathing as she felt the oppressive presence draw near.

“You’re just postponing the inevitable, little one.”

A chill ran down her spine, heart in her throat as she struggled to keep still. The sultry purr echoed down the market street, making it hard to determine where exactly it came from. Her gut was doing somersaults, but she did her best to ignore it. Until she knew where it— _he_ —was, it would be foolish to bolt. She could very well dart right into his jaws.

_Become small. Become insignificant. You’re a womp rat. Just a womp rat. Just a speck. Overlookable. Insignificant._

She nearly choked as she saw the metal boots enter her field of view. How could he have gotten so close without her hearing him? His footsteps were almost inaudible, even a few meters away. He walked like a predator, languid, supine, but potent with purpose. She held her breath as he neared, continuing the mantra in her head.

_Just a womp rat. Just a speck. Overlookable. Insignificant._

_**Insignificant.** _

He continued past her. Only when his feet vanished did she allow herself to breathe again.

“You’re crafty. But just because I can’t sense you doesn’t mean I can’t _find_ you.”

Wait five seconds, then move.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

She could never be as quiet as him, but she did her best as she slipped out from under the counter and down the narrow alley behind the stall. She had to move slower to keep from knocking over debris and refuse that had been strewn about, sidling sideways at times, but she hadn’t heard anything since, no ominous feeling either.

Once out of the alley she sped back up, weaving a path past the market into the residences on the outskirts. This area was even worse off than the market, many of the structures bombed out or burnt husks—not ideal for hiding from a prowler who knew what he was doing. But just short of 100 meters away, past a sea of waist-high grass, was some sort of farmstead, still intact. It was a risk, but probably her best shot. She crept as quickly as possible to the last house at the edge of the town, barely three walls with no roof, to give one last cautious glance behind her to make certain the coast was clear. The streets were empty, desolate. She turned back toward the home in the distance.

A pair of bright, sinister golden eyes met her instead. A moment later a black gloved hand had her by the throat, roughly shoving her back against the building wall. The cloaked figure leaned forward, close enough for her to clearly make out the red and black patterns on his face under the shadows of his hood.

And the flashing of sharp teeth in a sinister grin.

“As I told you. Inevitable.”

_Green?_

_Green._

His presence before had been almost imperceptible, more like a noticeable gap or void in the web of living things that moved around him, but the second he touched her that changed. Drastically. Hunger, focus, _intensity_. Just one hand was strong enough to hold her pinned, the pressing threat almost distracting from how his index finger subtly slid up to caress her jaw. But it sent her pulse racing nonetheless. And… _heat_. The skin beneath his hand burned, a seeping, seething pool of lava slowly working its way through her body.

“You look _delicious_.”

She wanted to snap back something pithy, but his remark had her tongue turned to lead, and, she was fairly certain, her face flushing bright scarlet. Without warning he flung her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

Fortunately her instincts were a lot more responsive than her tongue. Using her momentum she flung her lower body over his other shoulder, gripping his arm between her legs. Then it was just a matter of letting her upper body drop, hands yanking at his tunic, twisting at the waist to build up enough force to fling the man to the ground. The moment her feet were planted back on the soil she took off running through the grass.

By the amused chuckle, he was hot on her heels.

“ _How fast can you run, little fathier?_ ”

Fast enough. But she could hear the wind whipping his cloak over the pounding of her heart in her ears, and practically feel the _heat_ of his presence bearing down on her. It was her only warning before, a moment later, a great pulse of energy knocked her off her feet, sending her tumbling forward—not the softest landing, but decently cushioned by the smooth grass. Small blessings. His weight found her back shortly thereafter, a heavy hand on the back of her neck and a metal knee on her lower back holding her in place.

“I think I’ve toyed with you long enough.”

_Green?_

_Green. Greengreengreen._

She felt his weight shift as he leaned over her, nose burying itself in her hair just behind her right ear. He _wanted_ her to hear the satisfied purr he made on the exhale. Kriff, her blood felt like _fire_ coursing through her veins. Suddenly her hands, still by her head from slowing her fall, were yanked up and held together at the wrists by just one gloved hand.

“These stay until I say, _understand?_ ” he growled.

Her instinct was to balk, to disobey, to find her opening to get away.

_But gods, the last thing she wanted to do now was escape._

She gave a single, sharp nod.

“Very good.”

Her toes curled at how _sinful_ he made those two words sound. She felt him move, hand releasing her wrists confident that they would stay where they were, though the one at the back of her neck remained, so she could only surmise what was going on from other clues. His knee left her back to straddle her waist, letting most of his weight rest on her. The rustling of cloth suggested he was removing his cloak, the press at her neck leaving for a moment before sliding to the front, glove gone.

“How _patient_ I’ve been, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike…” his voice rumbled in its sultry baritone, stoking the fire within her higher as she felt it begin to pool between her legs. His weight slid down her slightly as he pressed her back to his chest with his other hand, calloused fingers creeping within her tunic to cup her breast. She wasn’t sure if she gasped at the brush of his hand against her sensitive skin or if it was at the feeling of a very noticeable hardness at her backside. “How I’ve _longed_ to finally _taste_ , to _drink you in_ …” His hips ground against her, “To _mount_ you and _claim_ you, as is my right as _hunter_.”

She couldn’t help the moan that slipped from her lips, fingers fisting the grass from the massive effort it took to keep her hands where he’d instructed.

His grip on her chest vanished momentarily, pulling one of her arms down so he could pull it from her tunic, baring most of her back to him. Then her arm was returned to its place, held there beneath his strong grip as he sunk his sharp teeth into her flesh at the junction of her shoulder and neck.

_Yellow! I know you eat raw meat with those teeth._

_Mmm, hard enough to mark my territory?_

_Ohhhh kriff green._

The sharp sting of his teeth softened to a teasing nip, tongue laving the sore spot as if in apology before suction was applied. His hand slid down her arm, scorching a path down her skin with his red fingertips until he was once again pressing her to him, letting her feel the warmth of him—her little stunt to get out of his hold earlier had pulled it open, baring much of his chest. The feeling of his dense muscles moving just beneath his tattooed skin sent a thrilling shiver down her spine, head spinning as he raked his teeth to his next mark.

His cloak was pushed under her hips to angle them up, around the same time the hand at her breast twisted the hardened bud of her nipple between two fingers. Gasping, she arched her back, which bucked her ass further into him, deriving no small amount of pleasure from the groan it drew from her captor right into her ear.

“ _That’s it_ ,” he growled, working to untie the sash at her waist even as he further ground his hips against her. “You’re right, I’ve delayed this long enough. No need to be patient,” her pants were drawn down swiftly, his searing fingers sliding to stroke her wet folds, “when you’re _more_ than ready.”

She couldn’t stop the whispered “ _Yes_ ,” that escaped, nor the moan a moment later as he pressed slowly and steadily into her. He was hot and hard and _so perfect_ , stretching and filling her, not stopping until he was fully seated inside her. She shuddered at the choked sound he made, artifice dropping for a moment, offering a glimpse of a man touch-starved and ragged, brought to his knees by the sheer weight of his relief. Each slip, each glance through the cracks was a gift she greedily snatched up and secreted away, for no one else was worthy of such precious knowledge. But the mask snapped back on in an instant, one arm slamming down to the ground beside her head to hold some of his weight, a deliberate show of strength, the other crossing her trunk to grip her shoulder, allowing him to control the pace, depth, and proximity—the last of which never seemed to be close enough to satisfy him for how he crushed her to him.

“ _Sssso perfect_ ,” he rumbled, ravaging her neck with his teeth as he twisted his hips against her, giving a few small experimental thrusts to gauge her reaction. “You were _made_ to be mine, to be _taken_ by me…”

All she needed was to arch back into him to have him start in earnest, rapidly plunging his cock into her hot channel as the obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh rose over the hissing of the wind through the grass. There wasn’t much she could do with his strict instruction to keep her hands above her head—probably his intent to let her focus on just _feeling_ —but with his face buried in her neck she could press her cheek to his brow, let him feel her lips parted and panting for him. His breath hitched against the column of her throat as the mask slipped again, brow furrowing as he tilted into her cheek with another vulnerable moan, barely audible above her own gasps. Perhaps to distract her from it, he snapped into her with a trio of sharp, deep thrusts that knocked the breath from her lungs immediately after, growling through gritted teeth.

“ _Yesss, submit_ to your _mate_ , little one.” She could practically feel his purr in her bones. It made her quiver inside and out. “I can _feel_ it—you need this just as much as I do.”

Yes, yes she did. The punishing pound of his hips against hers was overwhelming in the best way possible, the snarling pants in her ear a delicious bonus that had her toes curling. Gods, this pace was too much, but it was far too good to stop. Maybe it’d just be a quickie, but it would be the _best kind_ of quickie. She couldn’t help herself, a trembling hand sliding down to touch him, fingers stroking the base of the first horn she felt.

His hips stuttered, a sharp inhale through clenched teeth her only warning before her wrist was caught in a firm grip. Heart leaping into her throat, she braced for a harsh reprimand.

So it came to her as a surprise when he turned his lips to her palm, breath shuddering through the open-mouthed kiss he planted there. “ _Nnnnng, do that again_ …”

She did. _Anything_ to get him to make more of _those sounds_. Her wrist was released so he could slam his fist back to the ground, white-knuckled, as his feet squirmed and dug in for better leverage to drill into her anew. She tried so hard to keep her voice down to hear the sinful, desperate sounds he was making, but the arm holding her across the body slid downward, hand pushing the robes aside just far enough to find the junction between her legs where his prize lay. Between his relentless thrusts, his scraping teeth, the fingers at her clit, and _the sounds_ , she couldn’t hold in her cries.

“ _Gods don’t stop!_ ”

“ _Never—you are mine!_ ”

“ _Maul!_ ”

“ _Say it!_ ”

“ _Yours! Kriff, yours!_ ”

The triumphant roar he made—powerful and bestial and heartbreakingly relieved—sent her careening over the edge with a terrifying intensity that had both her hands flying to clutch whatever parts of him she could reach, since he’d silently given her permission earlier. By the way his rhythm faltered and arms crushed her to him, he was right behind her, groans of “ _Mine_ ,” getting softer and rougher as abused vocal chords lost strength. The rapid staccato of thrusts slowed, until with one, two, three last hard surges into her, he collapsed atop her like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

They lay like that for a long while, the first gentle night breeze wicking away sweat and rustling loose garments as their breathing slowed. After what felt like minutes he finally found the energy to lift himself off her, slumping onto his side and granting her a rare genuine smile, bereft of any of his usual cruelty or mockery that usually colored such expressions—small, but like kyber to her.

“That… was an _excellent game_ ,” he purred.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“You’re getting much better at hiding your presence.”

“You’re still the master at that. I didn’t see you behind me for the last half.”

“Rooves.”

“Ugh, so simple.”

“Best methods often are. That throw was impressive—you studied Teräs Käsi?”

“Read up on it—wanted to try taking a page from your book. Not bad for a first practical application?”

“Not bad at all. You realize, of course, this means I’ll be adding it to your training?”

“You don’t need an excuse to get my thighs around you, you know.”

His laugher, soft and rough, was music to her ears.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd wanted to leave the reveal of the game until the end, but realized that that might trigger some. So the red-yellow-green check-in system was worked in out of courtesy.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed. I missed you as much as I missed writing.


End file.
